Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Holden
T he savory scent of beef stew fills the kitchen from the stock pot cooling on the stovetop while I roll out personal-sized crusts for pot pie.
I hope Chloe will enjoy these as much as she did last time. Today will have been rough for her, and I want everything to be perfect.
“Uncle Holden!” Quinn comes crashing into the kitchen, her flowery dress swishing around her knees.
“Hey, kiddo.” I transfer the crust to the greased and floured pan waiting beside my wooden board. “Be more careful coming through that door.
Quinn drags a chair up next to me at the island counter. “What’cha making?”
“Beef pot pies.” I roll out the next crust. “Where’s Uncle Dom?”
“He’s doing boring laundry.” Quinn climbs up onto a seat and props her elbows on the marble surface. “Can we make pie crust cookies? Pretty please?”
I glance down into her big, pleading eyes and chuckle. She and Blake really have perfected that look. “Let me finish these pies and pop them into the oven first, okay? Then we’ll see what we can do with the scraps.”
Quinn claps her hands, then settles in to watch my handiwork, humming a nameless tune.
As I bring over the pot of stew, I ask, “What do you think of Chloe? You’ve gotten to spend some time with her, huh?”
Quinn’s face lights up. “Oh, I love her! She’s so pretty and nice. Fun, too. She listens to my stories and lets Uncle Blake do our hair the same!”
Her enthusiastic gushing is like sipping a mug of rich cocoa, warming me from the inside out.
“Uncle Holden?” Quinn tilts her head to the side. “Do you love Chloe? Like a princess and prince in the stories?”
I almost drop the pie I’m crimping, though I should have expected something like this. Kids are so blunt with their questions. My ears warm, and my cheeks flush.
My head turns left and then right to make sure we’re alone before I bend to Quinn’s level. “Can you keep a secret?”
At her solemn nod, I whisper, “I do love Chloe. Very much. But shhh , okay? I haven’t told her yet.”
“Why not?” Quinn asks with the innocent directness of youth.
“Well, we haven’t known each other very long yet.” I pause, searching for a way to explain this to a six-year-old. “Sometimes, when you tell someone you love them, it can be a little scary. You want it to be the perfect moment, so they feel happy and special. Do you understand?”
Quinn purses her lips as she processes this. Then she splits into a grin and mimes locking her mouth and tossing away an invisible key. “I won’t tell. You should, though, soon. When Chloe looks at you, it’s like….” She presses her hand to her forehead and swoons.
Laughing, I catch her around the waist. “No fainting while standing on chairs.”
As I turn back to the counter to work on the remaining pies, a flash of movement outside the front window turns my blood to ice. The rolling pin slips from my grasp, nearly clattering to the floor before I snatch it up again, pulse racing.
“Princess?” I fight to keep calm so I don’t scare her. “Please go help your Uncle Dom with the laundry. I forgot he had a big load to fold.”
“What about the cookies?” She fixes me with a pout that would normally melt my resolve. “You promised!”
“Quinn,” I say sharply. “Go, now. Please.”
Shocked, her bottom lip trembles as she slides off the chair. At the door, she peers back with tears clinging to her lashes.
I soften my tone. “Go on, princess. We’ll bake cookies later, okay?”
Still pouting, she stomps out of the kitchen, pigtails swishing.
Guilt twists my stomach, but I can’t afford to coddle her, not when an unknown threat may be lurking.
With the hefty marble rolling pin in hand, I creep through the dining room on silent feet, shoulders tense and heart thudding an erratic tempo. The metallic tang of adrenaline coats my tongue as I ease open the front door, every sense on high alert.
I step out onto the porch, rolling pin brandished like a weapon. The boards are still sun-warmed beneath my feet as I creep toward the stairs.
Pulse pounding, I venture down the steps, the rolling pin gripped so tightly that my knuckles ache. The golden light of early evening casts shadows across the path as I walk forward, each cautious step a futile attempt at stealth.
When I don’t find anyone, I turn back to the cabin and spot a lone boot print off the gravel path, leading toward the Phase Two construction site, where no one should be.
My grip on the rolling pin tightens, but it seems flimsy, the muscles built from years in the kitchen insufficient for a fight. With an unsteady hand, I fish my phone from my apron, nearly dropping it twice.
Emily picks up on the second ring, the sound of hammers and saws in the background. “Holden! To what do I owe this pleasure? Please say you’re inviting me up for dinner tonight.”
“You’re always welcome. Beef pot pies.” I shake my head. “Em, are any of the workers on break right now?”
Papers rustle on the other end before she replies. “Negative. Hector’s whole crew is still on Cabin Four, shingling the roof.”
“Okay, thanks.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Can you do me a favor and take a headcount? I thought I saw…”
The words tangle on my tongue, sounding paranoid even to my own ears. Some Alpha I am, jumping at shadows and crying wolf.
“Never mind,” I mutter. “It’s probably nothing. See you for dinner.”
I end the call before she can probe further, staring hard at the incriminating footprint.
“Holden?”
Dominic’s voice cuts through the silence, startling me. I whirl to find him framed in the doorway, brow furrowed in concern. He peers back over his shoulder before closing the door with a soft click and striding down the steps toward me.
“What’s going on?” His eyes dart between my face and the rolling pin still clutched in my hand. “Why are you out here?”
“I saw someone. Right here. They headed toward Phase Two.” I point at the footprint with the handle of the pin, trying to ignore how my hand trembles. “When I called Emily, she said all the workers are accounted for.”
Dominic crouches, tracing the boot’s outline with a fingertip. “We didn’t find any signs of the intruder by the beach where the boat washed up.”
“Well, someone was here,” I snap, then regret my temper. “Sorry, I just… Why are they doing this, Dom? Do they mean to hurt Chloe?”
“Hey.” Warm hands grip my shoulders, and Dominic’s citrusy musk wraps around me, loosening the panic in my chest. “We won’t let that happen. I’ll order some cameras, and Kyle can pick them up from the store when he goes to pick up Chloe and the others.”
“Let’s do that.” The footprint draws my attention again, and I shiver. “Maybe some sensors for the windows and doors downstairs, too?”
“Yeah.” Dominic’s eyes brush over the rolling pin, then flick down to my bare toes curling into the damp earth. “We should head back inside. I don’t like leaving Quinn alone, even with Sprinkles standing guard.”
A shiver skitters down my spine, the need to protect our pack’s pup driving me back toward the Homestead.
Goose bumps prickle across my skin as I fall into step beside Dominic. His hand touches my back, his pheromones reaching for me again before he withdraws, putting distance between us.
Guilt twinges through me. I haven’t been fair to my bondmate since meeting Chloe. Emotions got so mixed up, and then she vanished before anything could be resolved. But this new wedge between us is my fault.
At the door, I stop him from entering. “I’m sorry.”
He stills. “Why? Because you ran out here half-cocked with only a rolling pin?”
“No.” I step into him. “For turning on you. It wasn’t fair, and you didn’t deserve it. You’re my bondmate. And no matter what happens with Chloe, that won’t change.”
“Thank you.” He swallows hard. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I rub my cheek against his shoulder. “Nathaniel and Blake never talk books with me.”
Dominic chuckles. “Oh, I see how it is.”
I hesitate before broaching the forbidden topic. “Nathaniel says we’re supposed to stay out of it, but do you want to talk about what happened between you and Chloe a couple nights ago?”
“Nope.” He squeezes my arm to take the sting out of it. “Thank you for offering, though.”
A twig snaps in the brush behind us, and I go rigid, heart leaping into overdrive. Dom’s hand fists in my shirt, hauling me closer to his side, moving me a step behind him as we both spin around.
A squirrel darts between the tree roots, bushy tail bouncing as it scampers out of sight.
I exhale, knees threatening to buckle from the flood of adrenaline. “Let’s get inside.”
Unable to shake the sensation of someone watching us, I give the woods a last sweep, searching the shadows. Someone is out there.
Watching.
Waiting.
But for what?